09-13-2014, 08:54 AM
The petals that in summer charmed the bees,
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God, they won’t survive.
They’ll bend at last to take the autumn dive;
they’ll droop and sag to snag the harvest breeze.
That’s something, isn’t it? The way they fade,
and whither up as bug food, then as dust?
I only smile at them cause of you:
because I know one day, you’ll be afraid…
you’ll notice that you also wilt, and just
how short the time till you are bug food too
I enjoyed reading this work, the connection between nature and death. I thought this contributed toward giving this 'hate sonnet' a visceral feel to it. I have trouble trying to fault it. Perhaps when PHTj referred to confusion he was addressing the fluid change from the petals to the bees to the petals and than the patient, nitpicking I s'pose.
The petals that in summer charmed the bees,
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God,
There is a lot in this work that could be simplified....
but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious,
The word 'unconscious' could be removed, doing so may contribute toward giving this work a little more fluidity and punch. If the patient is a 'hostel for disease' than it is obvious to the reader that he is in a bad state, whether he is unconscious or not becomes irrelevant.
Using this additional description is merely repeating what has already been described about him...at least that is what we were taught in creative writing class, simplify, don't repeat what has essentially already stated.
Having said that, I enjoyed reading your 'hate sonnet'. I look forward to seeing more posts of your work.
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God, they won’t survive.
They’ll bend at last to take the autumn dive;
they’ll droop and sag to snag the harvest breeze.
That’s something, isn’t it? The way they fade,
and whither up as bug food, then as dust?
I only smile at them cause of you:
because I know one day, you’ll be afraid…
you’ll notice that you also wilt, and just
how short the time till you are bug food too
I enjoyed reading this work, the connection between nature and death. I thought this contributed toward giving this 'hate sonnet' a visceral feel to it. I have trouble trying to fault it. Perhaps when PHTj referred to confusion he was addressing the fluid change from the petals to the bees to the petals and than the patient, nitpicking I s'pose.
The petals that in summer charmed the bees,
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God,
There is a lot in this work that could be simplified....
but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious,
The word 'unconscious' could be removed, doing so may contribute toward giving this work a little more fluidity and punch. If the patient is a 'hostel for disease' than it is obvious to the reader that he is in a bad state, whether he is unconscious or not becomes irrelevant.
Using this additional description is merely repeating what has already been described about him...at least that is what we were taught in creative writing class, simplify, don't repeat what has essentially already stated.
Having said that, I enjoyed reading your 'hate sonnet'. I look forward to seeing more posts of your work.